CHAPTER XXXVIII
The Gong
Distracted, not knowing what she did, or why,
like some wild thing trapped and helpless, Florence
Gregory looked about the room, searching it with eyes
almost too fright-blinded for sight. Again she tried the
doors—all but one. She made a desperate, useless effort
to push the window apart. "Basil!" she cried, "Basil!"
Then she checked herself. "No! I mustn't do that!
O God!" she moaned, turning to driven humanity's
last great resort, "help me!"
She groped her way unsteadily across the room, and climbed with trembling legs upon the bench and reached her hands up toward the little window.
"No," she sobbed in a whisper, "I can't," for she could not reach to half the opening's height. She looked about her stealthily, rose on her very tiptoes, and called towards the window, "Ah Wong! Ah Wong! can you hear me? Go quickly, for the love of Heaven! Fetch them! Help me, Ah Wong! Help me! I am alone, Ah Wong—but he will be back—very soon. Quick, amah, quick! Ah Wong, are you there?"
And then she waited.
Oh! that waiting.
There was no sound except the panting of her heart. From Wu's inner room nothing came but silence. The house and the garden were midnight-still.
Ah!
